Portrait of a Lady
by OnlyALouse
Summary: The annual hunt at Downton brings the whole family together again. Well, mostly. A snapshot of life in the Crawley family, ten years on from the events of the Christmas Special.


**A/N. Right. This is my first attempt at anything remotely creative so here goes... I was inspired whilst out hunting this winter and decided to have a potter about and possibly write something down. And this is what came out. Not at all what I was expecting but hey ho! Many, many, many thanks to OrangeShipper who let me badger her with many questions, both silly and otherwise (mainly silly!) and for giving me the courage to actually post this! So here you are! :D**

* * *

It was Mary's favourite kind of evening. The sun's final rays streamed out over the horizon, casting a plethora of yellows, oranges and pinks to light up the crisp sky. Though it was late October, the autumn had been unseasonably warm, and Mary stood just in her evening dress in the Great Hall. The last light flowed through the windows in that special time between day and night, bathing the hall in a sugary warmth.

Mary gazed up at the portraits of her ancestors that adorned the walls of the hall. Earls upon Earls stared down at her from their high positions, a reminder of the dynasty of which she was a part. She moved along the wall, noting the fading paint on the older paintings, small cracks that had started to appear, perhaps a mirroring of the problems that plagued the aristocracy in the recent years following the Great War. So many of the families had not survived, but they had been lucky.

Mary progressed to the first family portrait hung on the wall, bucking the trend of separate Earl and Countess Portraits. It depicted her father and mother standing behind their daughters sitting on a low bench in the middle. It had been painted when Mary was about ten years old, but she remembered the boredom that came from having to sit primly still for hours on end for the artist to capture the family in this time-consuming method. It was evident that her father felt the same way, for he bore a poorly concealed expression of exasperation on his face.

However, Mary stood for the longest time in front of the most recent addition to the paintings. Commissioned by her father two years ago, it showed Matthew still in his captain's uniform, wearing the exact look of boredom at this time-wasting procedure as that on his father-in-law in the previous painting. Beside him, very close to her husband, was Mary herself with one slim hand resting daintily on the dark curls of their then seven-year-old daughter Henrietta, mainly in an effort to hold her still enough for the painter to complete his work. On a low stool in front of Matthew sat Downton's heir, five-year-old Alexander, whose birth had been greeted with much relief from all the family. Still sporting his baby ringlets, he sat with wide-eyed concentration and apparently strangling the small toy dog in his hand. Mary smiled as her eyes passed over the dog that had survived a war in one piece but was rather worse for wear after being held, however carefully, by Sandy's grubby fingers day in and day out.

The smile Mary wore was, however, a bittersweet one. For though her father had commissioned the painting, he had not lived to see it completed after never recovering from a fall on the hunting field, and passing a year ago. It had hit the family hard, especially Matthew who had thought he had many more years to learn the trade before having to succeed Robert. Mary had not been hunting since.

Cora had been so distraught that she could not bear to stay in Yorkshire and had removed herself to London as soon as she could. Though both Mary and Matthew had not wished to turf her out of her own home, Cora felt that she could not stay without Robert, and now was firmly in place in London society with Aunt Rosamund, to whom she had grown close in their shared grief.

In fact, it was only Cora's second time back at Downton as a Dowager Countess and it was to be just a brief visit for the weekend, as she felt that she should be present at the Opening Meet of the York & Ainsty Hunt and the subsequent Hunt Ball. It was the first time since the funeral over a year ago that the whole family had been together, and though that made Mary's heart ache, she was looking forward to a day out hunting. Not as much as her darling Sandy, though. Now at seven years old he was declared a proficient enough rider to be allowed to partake not just in the meet, but in the actual hunt itself. Mary smiled to herself and turned as the object of her thoughts careered down the stairs towards her, and skidded to a halt at her feet.

"Mama! I'm so excited I won't sleep a wink tonight, I'm sure!"

"You'll do no such thing, darling. Have you come to say goodnight?"

Alexander nodded and turned, gesturing behind to where Henrietta was descending the staircase rather more slowly.

"Miss Pinfold says that because we're both going hunting tomorrow we have to go to bed early. _Even Hettie!_" Sandy's eyes grew wider in order to convey to his mother the gravity of this statement, "She's not very happy about it," he added in a whispered aside as his sister approached them.

"Hettie, darling-" Mary tried before she was cut off by her daughter.

"Mama, don't. It's terribly unfair! I'm two years older than him and I _still_ have to go to bed earlier than usual."

"Henrietta, do you know what my grandmamma used to say to me? Life isn't fair. I'm sure it's not that much of a crime to have to go to bed early for one night, especially as it's a special day tomorrow and you must get a good nights sleep, yes?" Mary received no reply from her daughter and simply quirked an eyebrow. Henrietta reminded Mary so much of herself at that age. To a child, nine years old is _very_ grown up, and Mary remembered that exact same feeling from her childhood many times over. She turned to address her son,

"Sandy dear, why don't you run into the drawing room quickly and say goodnight to Papa and Grandmama before you go up to bed?" He nodded and she bent down for him to quickly kiss her cheek before he scuttled off into the drawing room. Mary then turned her attention to her daughter.

"Hettie darling, I don't want to upset your brother, and I'm sure you don't either," she gave her daughter a pointed look before continuing, "But if you stop protesting, you can come into the drawing room until we go in for dinner."

Hettie looked happy with this and nodded her agreement before following her brother into the drawing room. Mary gazed at her retreating back. She knew from past experience that her daughter was far too much like herself to be easily pressed into doing as she was bidden, and her lips turned upwards into a smile as she turned back to gaze upwards at the painting.

* * *

That was where Matthew found his wife a few minutes later. Walking up behind her, he appreciated the bare skin of her upper back, revealed in a deep green dress of the new fashions. Matthew didn't know much about such things, but he was grateful for the dresses that left more of Mary's soft skin on show, if only for the enjoyment of knowing exactly what lay beneath the fancy clothes.

Mary heard his footsteps and turned.

"Hettie said you were out here," Matthew murmured, running his hands up her arms and settling them on her shoulders. Mary looked up and smiled sadly.

"I keep looking up at Papa's painting and wishing so very much that he was here," she whispered, bringing her fingers up to wipe away the tears that had leaked out, unable to hold them in.

"Oh darling, darling Mary," Matthew drew her into a comforting embrace, "You know how much I wish he was too. Will you be alright tomorrow?" Mary nodded, not trusting her voice enough speak.

"As long as you're there with me." She breathed.

* * *

Mary awoke late the next day after a troubled sleep and an early morning trip to the bathroom, as had become a regular occurrence in the past few days. Sybil and Tom had already arrived by the time she got downstairs dressed for the day in her hunting habit, and Edith and her husband - ironically she had found herself another Patrick in the form of Mr Patrick Morton, a filthy rich merchant banker whom Mary always regarded as 'not too picky'- would no doubt be late to the meet even though they lived almost next door. After rather a hurried greeting, the Bransons were shown to their room and Mary found herself wondering where her children were and if they were ready for the day ahead.

Wandering from room to room, Mary came to the conclusion that they must be already at the stable yard, for she could not find them anywhere. But then she heard the unmistakable sound of Henrietta's laughter and followed it to the very end of the house, where she had not yet searched.

She paused in the entrance to the music room, happiness filling her heart as she watched the scene in front of her.

Matthew was sat at the piano with Alexander on his lap. Next to them on the bench was Henrietta, giggling delightedly at her father's attempt to play the piano whilst juggling Sandy on his knees. Matthew persevered for a few more chords; singing quietly to their children and Mary's breath caught in her throat as she recognised the tune from what seemed a lifetime ago;

'_I would say such wonderful things to you…' _

Tears filled her eyes for the second time in as many days, and she had to bring a hand up to cover her mouth for fear of crying out. Mary knew this was going to be a trying weekend for the family; the first hunt Downton had hosted since, well, since Papa…

Mary's heart nearly burst with love for her husband at his efforts to reassure their children and she smiled shakily when Hettie twisted on the stool and beckoned her in.

Matthew's head turned and his expression, full of love and hope and understanding, gave Mary the courage she needed. She stepped into the room and joined him, under her breath, as she approached them;

'_If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy…' _

Reaching her family, she stood quietly as the last note hung in the air before resting a hand on each of her children's shoulders. Matthew noted the glistening tears in her eyes and the tremble in her smile and decided to speak for her;

"Darlings, don't you think it would be sensible for you to get ready for the day out? We don't have long before everybody arrives – why don't you run along to Miss Pinfold and change?"

There was a chorus of "Yes, Papa" and "We won't be long" as the children climbed off the stool and raced out of the room.

Matthew turned to Mary, grasped her hands tightly and pulled her down to sit on the bench beside him. No words were needed as he gathered her into his arms. She relaxed into his embrace before twisting around to look him in the eye.

"What is it, darling?" Matthew murmured.

"Oh, it's nothing really, I'm just being silly – it's only that song… Its so very poignant, today of all days – and I couldn't help thinking how very lucky I was, to have you and the children and – and, oh I love you so much, Matthew!" Mary struggled to express herself eloquently, and promptly burst into tears.

"Shush, Mary darling," Matthew tightened his arms around her "I love you very much too. I know how hard today is going to be for you – are you sure you still want to ride?"

"Of course!" Mary gave him a watery smile, "I couldn't very well not, especially after all the fuss Sandy has made about his first _real_ hunt. And besides, we'll all be out together so I'll be fine. I feel much better now anyway – I'm so sorry about being so emotional today."

"Mary my dear, you have nothing to apologise for." Matthew gave her a fleetingly quick kiss, barely brushing his lips to hers before rising and pulling her with him walking towards the door, "As much as I'd like to stay here all day I really must get changed, after all, I cannot have my wife disgracing me by arriving before me!"

"I could help you with that…?" Mary grinned, all traces of tears disappeared, her face glowing with mischief.

"That, my dear, is all very well – but we both know that if that were the case we would never leave the room, much less achieve our objective. Besides, you are already dressed and I really wouldn't want to create extra work for Anna…" said Matthew. But his actions deceived his words, for he began to stalk back towards her with a familiar glint in his eyes.

They were, however, doomed to fail on that front because of the reappearance of their son, who raced into the room completely oblivious to the mounting tension.

"Papa! Mama! Why are you still in here? We must go quickly and get the ponies out; Aunt Sybil is already at the stables!" Alexander cried, pulling at Matthew's trouser leg. "Papa, you're not even dressed for hunting!" With a rueful smile at Mary – and a promise in his eyes that they would continue this later – Matthew allowed himself to be dragged from the room by his eager son.

Mary straightened out her skirt, took a deep breath and prepared herself for the trial to come. However much she wanted to crumple inside, she had to play the gracious hostess and with that thought in mind, she went to find her daughter.

* * *

Henrietta was to be found in the stable yard talking to her dapple-grey pony. The head groom, Lane (replacing Lynch, who had retired a few years ago due to back problems that had plagued him more than he cared to admit) doffed his hat as Mary strode past, and went to fetch her mount.

Mary watched as Timmy, the stable boy, helped Hettie mount her pony and straighten her skirt. Hettie moved towards where her mother stood with a happy expression on her face.

"Doesn't Bumble look splendid, Mama? I'm ever so excited!" Hettie grinned.

"He does, darling, and so do you. You look much smarter on him than you ever did on Pudding," Mary commented with a smirk, "But don't tell your brother that; he thinks Pudding is a fine hunter."

"Pudding? A _hunter_?" Hettie exclaimed, "His tummy hardly is above the ground he's so fat, and his legs are so short he can't go anywhere quickly!"

"Well he is only a Shetland, Hettie," her mother reminded her, "And he did very well for you, too, remember. Sandy is so excited, please don't spoil his fun!"

At that moment, Sandy came scuttling around the corner to claim his pony.

"Pudding!"

Mary laughed at her son and thanked Timmy who simply brought out Pudding and helped Sandy on. She accepted the reins of her own hunter, remembering when Matthew had presented her with the gentle mare the day before their wedding.

He had claimed that though it wasn't the bridegroom's traditional present to the bride of sapphires or rubies, (Mary had enough of them already - and besides, she would have to be able to keep up with him once Diamond retired) he was just secretly thrilled that he finally _could_ buy her presents whenever he felt like it. During many of their playful conversations Matthew had mentioned a desire to name their first daughter after a Greek goddess, something which Mary had vehemently refused to do – she wanted good, solid English names. True to his word – after the mare remaining nameless for a short while, Matthew had christened her Aphrodite, with a sharp twinkle in his eye. Thankfully, Sandy had done away with the ridiculously long appellation and named her Spritey.

Mary grinned at Sybil, already mounted on Primrose and stroked Spritey's soft muzzle. Mary saw no point in mounting at the stables, as she would only have to get off again to talk with the guests, so she strode out beside the mare, talking softly to her. The party set off from the stables for the front of the house, with Lane leading Matthew's mount (Robert's old hunter Admiral) in a cheerful mood.

"Aunt Sybil, where are Cousin Frances and Cousin Oscar?" Alexander immediately started chattering.

"They're staying with Uncle Tom's parents at home. They said they were sorry to miss you but hope to see you soon," Sybil smiled down at the young boy bouncing along.

"Can we go to Ireland, Mama? To see Frances and Oscar? That would be great fun! I've never been to Ireland before!" Sandy had hardly stopped to draw breath.

"You must ask your Papa, Sandy," Mary replied tactfully, "But I'm sure it can be arranged." She turned to her youngest sister; "How is everything in Ireland?"

"Perfectly well, thank you. Though I'm glad to get away for a bit every now and then, I'm sure you understand, with the children and suchlike." Sybil grinned as they rounded the corner of the drive and found themselves facing the front of the house.

Mary drew in a quick gasp at the sight. It was all so familiar, the weathered huntsmen in their scarlet coats, the ladies poised elegantly atop their mounts, the friendly hounds sniffing about the horses' hooves.

Yet it was all so different from last time. Last time she had merely been Lady Mary Crawley, eldest daughter of the house, able to sit quietly on horseback with her husband, simultaneously attracting and repelling the attentions of various young men. She had been in a foul mood, fuming over some silly argument with her father. And then of course she had never been able to make proper amends.

Thinking of her Papa, Mary had to swallow down a lump that had appeared in her throat and blink back the sudden tears that had clouded her vision. But this time she was the Countess of Grantham, and she had a part to play. So she set her face into a determined mask, handed over her reins to Lane who was standing quietly with Admiral next to her, and weaved her way through the crowd to find Matthew.

* * *

Matthew watched Mary approach him and could see from her expression that she had set herself a difficult task. It took all of his restraint not to rush to her and take her inside to comfort her away from prying eyes. Instead he had to make do with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a quick squeeze of her hand.

The reassuring glance, full of understanding and love, that Matthew had bestowed upon Mary as he took her hand had served its purpose, and Mary was able to smile brightly at her mother and grandmother and greet the visiting huntsmen.

Matthew kept glancing over at Mary beside him as they made their rounds and spoke to everybody in attendance personally. She was playing the part of the gracious hostess perfectly, both supporting him and being her own person and she looked so very beautiful. His heart nearly burst for love of her.

Brief exchanges were had with Edith and her husband, who had arrived late (as usual) blaming their useless chauffeur for the delay – Edith claimed they would have been quicker to walk! Mary had been equally amused and surprised when newly married Edith had announced her intention of buying Haxby Park. She shouldn't have been taken aback, Mary knew, for it was typically Edith to want to better Mary in every way possible (though she barely succeeded) and Edith's attempts to make Haxby the social centre of Yorkshire fell far short of Downton's prestige.

Eventually it was time for them to return to their horses, where they were standing very patiently with Hettie and Sandy – who was almost vibrating with anticipation. Lane helped Mary to mount, and she laid a hand on Spritey's warm neck to calm her.

Matthew admired the slim fit of his wife's hunting habit, and the hat so elegantly poised atop her head. She in turn appreciated the tight-fitting jodhpurs and the sharp cut of his riding jacket. Their eyes met, full of sparks and the tension crackled between them as they stood quietly next to one another, separated only by the distance their horses stood apart. Matthew quickly reached out and grasped his wife's hand, only to drop it moments later with an irritated sigh as the huntsmen's horn sounded and silence fell.

The men all removed their hats. The hounds were stilled and the horses stopped shuffling. The Master's voice rang out, loud and clear. He marked the beginning of the hunting season by saying a few words about the late Lord Grantham.

Matthew's eyes flicked over to Mary, and saw her internal struggle to keep her emotions under control. Banishing all thought of propriety from his mind, he grasped her hand tightly and her gaze moved to his. Tears swam in her eyes and she bit the bottom of her lip to stop herself from crying out.

More words were uttered by the Master but neither Mary nor Matthew registered or heard them. Matthew reached across and tenderly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she bowed her head. He moved his hand to tilt her chin up with his fingers and, forgetting they were in company, he pressed a swift kiss to her lips. It was awkward leaning across from his horse, but Matthew barely noticed the slight twinge in his back as he ensured that his wife was alright. Mary broke into a shaky smile at his touch, and visibly relaxed but did not relinquish her hold on his hand.

Matthew moved slightly further away – not far enough for Violet, who observed the exchange with her usual fondness for the young couple (which had just increased over the years) but she did wish they had remembered where they were. She did not believe a hunt meet was the time for such displays!

Finally the Master drew close to the end of his speech, finishing with a wish to thank the patrons of the hunt, especially Lord and Lady Grantham for their kindness in hosting the Opening Meet and the Hunt Ball to be held later that evening;

"I think that everyone in attendance would like to join me in raising our glasses to the Earl and Countess and their family. Congratulations, Countess, it has been a great success and we very much look forward to tonight."

Mary nodded her assent and smiled beguilingly at all the faces that had turned to look at her. Still she did not let go of Matthew's fingers.

Matthew looked down at Hettie and Sandy, preparing themselves to move off, and he smiled at the happy chatter exchanged between them. Mary and he were blessed with two wonderful children and the bonus was that they hardly seemed to bicker at all. In fact, they were very close indeed – well, apart from in some instances – and Hettie was ever so protective over Sandy. Even now, she was reminding him to shorten his reins and keep his heels down, Sandy nodding enthusiastically;

"Just in case Pudding gets a bit excited!"

Matthew was then startled when the huntsman blew his horn and the hounds moved off. He gave Mary's hand one last squeeze before replacing his hat and shortening his own reins – not that Admiral would move unless made to.

Their little group moved to the back of the field and followed as the hounds started a gallop across the impressive parkland – but at a slightly more sedate pace to accommodate Sandy and Pudding, who were both puffing hard at the end of the first run, though that did not dampen any enthusiasm they had.

"Are you alright, Sandy? We've got a long day ahead!" Matthew asked as they trotted down a path in the woods.

"It's ever so much fun, Papa!" Sandy looked up at his father, "Even if Pudding can't go very fast!"

"He goes just fast enough for you, my boy," Matthew said with a smile. "Now kick on, we're getting left behind! I'll race you to Mama and Hettie!"

"That's not fair!" Sandy cried, "Admiral has much bigger legs than Pudding! I'm having a head start!" And with that he flapped his little legs and shot off in pursuit of his sister.

* * *

Later that evening, Henrietta watched Mary dress for the Hunt Ball held at Downton that evening.

"It'll be your turn soon, darling," Mary remarked as Hettie trailed her fingers over the rich brocade of her cream dress. It was the dress that Mary had had made for the ball last year, that ill-fated day, the ball which never began. She had not wanted to wear it again, for fear of stirring up tearful memories, but Mary had faced so many awful memories today and she wanted to be able to move forwards without regret. She was unsure if simply wearing the dress was going to help her, but Mary knew that it was definitely not going to help her sitting in the wardrobe unused.

Anna was just putting the finishing touches to Mary's hair, tucking an errant curl up into the fabulous sweeping tresses, when Alexander came rushing in with his hands behind his back.

"Mama!"

"Sandy, why didn't you knock? Were you born in a barn?" Hettie was quick to admonish her brother. He just gave her a puzzled look before turning to his mother and holding out his hands;

"Look what I picked for you, Mama! It's so pretty, just like you!" Sandy cried, proffering a delicate flower. The six fragile petals in a bright, vivid blue swept out from the snowy centre of the flower. Mary brought it up to her face and breathed in.

"Thank you, Sandy, it's beautiful – and smells absolutely wonderful! Wherever did you find it?"

"It was in the Orangery, but I did ask Mr Badwen if I could pick one for you. He said it was a… a Chin… well, a Chin something!"

"Its lovely, thank you Sandy" Mary smiled at her son. Hettie came to stand next to them, picking up the flower and gazing at it.

"It's so white in the middle – I don't think I've ever seen anything so white" Hettie murmured, "I know, Mama! You could wear it in your hair!"

"What a fabulous idea, Hettie." Mary glanced back at the flower, noting how the cream of her dress and the white within the flower would most probably clash quite brilliantly with the silver of the Grantham Tiara she was expected to wear, and then surprised even herself by not caring one jot, "I think I shall."

"May I, my lady?" Anna quietly asked, stretching her hand out for the flower, "Mr Badwen was telling me about his new flower earlier this week, I believe it is known as 'Glory of the Snow'"

"That's what it was!" Sandy exclaimed, "Glory of the Snow!"

"How does that relate to 'Chin something', Sandy?" Henrietta frowned.

"I expect it has a Latin name, my lady" Anna answered, smiling at Hettie before expertly weaving the slim stem into the curls atop Mary's head. Finally, Anna carefully affixed the tiara on top of the curls and stood back to admire her mistress.

"Oh, Mama," Hettie breathed, "You do look splendid!"

* * *

A short while later, Henrietta and Alexander peered over the balustrade above the Great Hall and took in the sight before them. They had eluded Miss Pinfold so far and were determined to do so for a while longer before they were sent to bed without even a glimpse of the ball. The Lords and Ladies all gathered in the hall amidst the swirling colours and light music, unknowingly observed by the two children leaning over the edge of the low wall.

"Look, Het!" Sandy exclaimed quietly, "Look how pretty they all are!" Sandy was overwhelmed, having never seen anything like it before. "How many blue dresses can you count, Het? There's so many! I can see six already!"

"Where's Mama, can you see her?" Hettie asked, ignoring her brother's question, "I can't find her down there, there's so many people!"

Sandy stood on his tip-toes to get a better view, and gazed down into the excitement below. "I can't see her either. But I remember she went into Papa's room so maybe she's still with him in there and they haven't gone down yet," he wondered.

His theory was proved correct, when the children spied their parents appearing together from the dressing room. They quickly ducked down out of sight so to avoid detection, but not before they both drew breath at the sight of their parents looking so grand and so very beautiful.

"Oh, Sandy! Look, don't they look tremendous? I wish we could dress up like that and go to a ball…" Hettie whispered.

But Sandy had noticed something else, something which made him very happy indeed.

"Mama still had my flower in her hair, Het! She's still wearing it!"

* * *

Mary sighed as she emerged from Matthew's dressing room and he shut the door quietly behind him. Turning back to look at him, her breath caught in her throat at the expression he wore, of utter love and adoration. He clasped her hands softly in his;

"Mary darling, are you sure you'll be alright? I can still make excuses –"

"Oh for heavens sake, Matthew, how many times must I tell you I will manage?" Mary's words may have been sharp, but her expression wasn't, "I know you're concerned, but I feel much better now, and anyway, you will be beside me – how could I not be alright?" Her eyes turned teasing and she grinned up at him.

"But you've been so ill! How can you have miraculously recovered?"

Mary simply laughed; "Oh dear, Matthew! You would think that after two children you would recognise the symptoms! Even after all these years!"

Matthew gaped at her and swallowed thickly. "Do you mean to say – Are you trying to tell me –"

"Yes Matthew, I am. Must I spell it out?"

"Oh darling, darling Mary!" He breathed and gathered his wife into his arms, showering light kisses to her cheeks before pressing a blinding kiss to her smiling lips.

That was how Violet found them, when she came to enquire as to why the host and hostess had not yet appeared. They were entwined so intimately, though it was just a kiss, that they didn't notice her at all, and smiling she turned around and descended the staircase once more. They deserved some happiness after Robert's passing and the misery of the past year and so Violet did not disturb them as she once would have. She did however silently 'harrumph' to herself at the thought of a guest discovering them in such an embrace! As fond as she was of her granddaughter and Matthew, she did often wish that they kept their intimacies to themselves! With that thought she abruptly turned and marched back up the staircase.

* * *

"Matthew?" Mary whispered into his mouth when he finally let her breathe, "We really do have to go downstairs, you know."

He reluctantly pulled back and gazed into her eyes. The depth of his love and happiness at her news was quite evident, and it took all of her strength not to pull him back into the dressing room. Mary patted a hand to her hair, checking it was still in place, and Matthew tucked back an errant curl. His fingers brushed the flower poised in her hair and he glanced at her questioningly.

"Sandy brought it to me this evening," Mary explained, "I know it doesn't exactly fit with the tone of the ball but I couldn't bear to let him down."

"I think that, if it were even possible, it makes you look even more beautiful," Matthew murmured. With one final kiss, he offered her his arm, and they made their way towards the top of the staircase, where they promptly encountered Violet.

"Granny! How are you?"

"Well, I and all the other guests would be better if the host and hostess had appeared," she grumbled, "but I suppose one is better late than never."

"Oh Granny, you know as well as I do that we're not that late. Anyway, it's the fashion nowadays to be a little late!" Mary grinned up at her grandmother.

Violet noticed something different about her granddaughter and the Earl in that moment, and she had a feeling that she knew what it was;

"And do you have any other wisdom or news to share?"

Mary looked up at Matthew, and Violet's suspicions were confirmed in the significant look that passed between them.

"Not at this present moment, Cousin Violet" Matthew answered, but Violet knew them both better than that, and the glow that they were both exuding seemed to contradict Matthew's words. She remained silent on the matter, however, and let them pass her and descend the staircase.

There was a simultaneous turning of the heads and an intake of breath from all the guests in the Great Hall as the Earl and Countess of Grantham moved gracefully and majestically down the final few stairs and into the room. They were also observed by their children, once again peering down at the richly dressed and bejewelled people below. Their rapture was to be cut short however, because walking down the corridor came Miss Pinfold, and off they went (rather unwillingly) to bed.

* * *

"That went well," Matthew commented as he and Mary saw off the final guests to leave that night on the driveway. "Thank you Carson, Mrs Hughes," he turned to the Butler and Housekeeper. They nodded and withdrew inside, quietly shutting the door behind them, leaving the Earl and Countess swathed in silence.

Matthew stretched out his hand to his wife; "Shall we stay for a moment?"

"Matthew, it's nearly midnight in November! Are you mad?"

In response, Matthew shrugged off his jacket and moved behind Mary to place it over her shoulders before smirking at her, "Better?"

"Much." Mary relaxed back into Matthew, still stood behind her, and his arms encircled her waist. She ran her fingers up and down his arms, tracing the contours beneath the starched white shirt. Turning in his arms and looking up at him she simply said; "Thank you."

"For what?" Matthew was puzzled.

"For… everything – for helping me today, for being so wonderful with the children, for loving me…" Mary trailed off. She couldn't explain why she felt so light all of a sudden, as if the world's weight had been taken off her shoulders and she could finally move forward without the shadow of the past year hanging over her. All she knew was that she loved Matthew and she was so very, very glad of what they had. Suddenly overwhelmed with a surge of happiness and love, she pressed herself further into him.

"I –" Mary cut off Matthew's words with a searing kiss that conveyed all they needed to say to one another.

Reluctantly Matthew pulled back and then abruptly grinned, moving his hand from her cheek to rest against her still-flat stomach.

"Do you know, something's just occurred to me," he murmured.

"Hmm? What's that?"

"We're going to need another portrait!"

* * *

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on it if you have a moment! :D**


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